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Blue Horizon Part Four: Forward Directives
Posted By: Cassus Falco<reillycarroll@bigpond.com>
Date: 28 April 2006, 11:28 am
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0945 Hours/ July 27, 2552 (Military Calender)/
Bumblebee Tango Tango Foxtrot 89, airspace 50 kilometres from Blue Horizon, Alpha Caridanis IV
First Morning of Operation September
Flight Officer William R. Russo was almost bucked from his chair as his Bumblebee began to freefall. He began to pump the manual fuel line lever, preying the emergency thrusters would fire; there was no way on God's Green Earth that the Bumblebee, now travelling at its terminal velocity, or any of the six Marines and Two Navy men sitting aboard her, would survive the inevitable landfall.
"C'mon, c'mon, c'mon!" Russo grunted, continuing to pump the fuel line.
"Oh, God!" came the voice of Ensign Jeffrey Tyler from one of the acceleration chairs behind Russo. No doubt the young ensign had seen the ground rushing up to meet the lifeboat through the thick windshield.
"Stow it, Ensign!" Russo shouted back. He continued to pump the lever. "C'mon, c'mon, c'mon."
Finally, the fore-mounted reverse thrusters blazed into action, sending lines of soot flying over the windshield. Russo grabbed the controls and with all his might pulled back on the joystick. The readouts ticked over, and a dozen alarms and klaxons sounded. Russo hit the button extending the aft drag fins, but he knew it wouldn't do much, not at this late stage.
"We're goin' in too hot!" Tyler cried.
"Hold on back there!" Russo shouted.
Suddenly, the Bumblebee bucked dangerously, throwing Russo back into his chair, sending a jolt of pain through his spine. Russo hit the fuel tank controls, sending every last particle of the stuff into his reverse thrusters, all the while trying to level Tango Tango Foxtrot 89's descent.
At that moment the communications systems blared with static and a voice he didn't recognise shouted "Majestic is going nova in the middle of the Covenant line!"
Despite the dire situation he was in, Russo was not surprised by his Captain's actions.
The 'Old Majesty', as Majestic was sometimes affectionately called by her crew, had deserved such a way to go.
"Two Covenant cruisers are gone!"
"God speed, Captain Woolf."
The radio abruptly cut out; the antenna had been burnt away by the rapid atmospheric entry.
Russo glanced at the readouts; fuel was gone. Then the sound cut out. No roar of engines, no screech of firing emergency thrusters, no shouting Marines, no crackle from the radio. Just the whistling of the air rushing past the Bumblebee.
Fifty metres from ground…
"Brace for impact! Cycle acceleration dampeners to full!" Russo shouted, and lights winked on across his dashboard as the seated UNSC personnel hurried to comply.
Thirty metres…
Russo followed his own advice.
Ten metres...
Klaxons blared, warning of the imminent contact with ground, and Russo pulled his head down, covering it with his arms.
Impact.
Russo's head was snapped back, and he was thrown into his acceleration seat, hard. He heard the metal stretch and snap under the stress of the crash landing, and then heard the sickening crunch and following smash of the forward viewscreen shattering. Keeping his head down, he felt shards of the thick glass rain down on his helmet. The Bumblebee slid across the ground, through the grassy field Russo had selected as a landing point from orbit, sending waves of dust up behind it.
Suddenly the 'Bee came to a jarring halt that would have sent Russo flying if not for the straining crash webbing
He was in pain, disoriented, but he was alive.
He pulled his head up and he spun his chair around. The rear hatch had been blown open, and the two Marines closest the door had been ripped out of their chairs, instantly breaking their necks. Another Marine was dead, his skull cracked open on a seat support. A Naval officer, who Russo recognised as Crewman Nick Lords, was sprawled between the two rows of crash seats.
Most of the other Majestic escapees were also wounded.
Russo ripped open his crash webbing, and ran to the closest Marine's side. The man was unconscious, but he was breathing. Reaching under the man's chair, the Flight Officer pulled out the medical capsule wedged in there. Around him, other mobile Marines were helping their wounded comrades. Russo opened the capsule and took out a hypodermic needle full of a wake-up stim. He shoved the device into the Marines leg. The liquid within shot out into the man's veins, and the Marine came to, gasping for breath. Russo pulled off the man's crash webbing, and with the help of Tyler, who had just sprayed biofoam over another Marine's broken arm, carried him out of the crashed Bumblebee.
Once outside, Russo took stock of their surroundings.
The Bumblebee had crashed in a grassy field, complete with patches of wildflowers, which backed onto wooded foothills before finally disappearing up a mountain range. Suddenly, the air was filled with a strong rumble and at least five more Bumblebees began to streak across the sky.
"What are we going to do?" Tyler intoned.
Russo looked around. "We should grab whatever weapons and medical supplies we can and make our way into the foothills." Russo looked into the endless blue eternity that stretched above their heads. "Then we'll send out patrols and rescue some soldiers from the rest of those 'Bees. We'll gather 'em all up, set up a temporary camp then get ready to fight a holding action against the Covenant."
"Wha-? A holding action?" asked the Marine with the broken arm.
"The Covies'll come, Marine. Don't think they won't." Russo grunted. "What's your name, anyway?"
"Private Jordan Willis, sir."
Russo took a quick look at the other survivors. The closest, an Eastern European looking man, stepped forward. His nametag read 'Nikolai Sharafatdanova'. The Marine next to him was a woman, her nametag stating 'Heather Rider'. The man he had helped escape Tango Tango Foxtrot 89 was named, apparently, 'Ari Mohammad'.
Mohammad was just starting to come to.
"Well, Willis, we've can't stay here. When those alien bastards come, they'll be right on top of us. We have to leave, now."
At that moment, the hum that filled the air with the rapidly descending Bumblebees changed pitch. Russo looked up. His jaw hit the ground. In the sky above him, leaking flames a blue and leaving a trail of azure vapour was a Covenant dropship, obviously damaged and listing heavily.
"Down!" he shouted at the top of his lungs.
The tuning fork-shaped vehicle flew low overhead as the survivors of TTF-89 hit the dirt. The Covenant dropship powered through the air, before an explosion enveloped its forward sections, sending it spinning back towards the lifeboat. The ship went end over end before slamming into the ground, its double pronged troop deck crunching into twisted pieces of metal.
Russo looked fearfully at the wrecked Covenant vehicle, watching for movement.
"It's clear!" the Flight Officer shouted.
Tyler was the first to stand, and took a few steps towards the crashed dropship, scavenged MA5B in hand. He turned back to Russo and offered his hand out for the man to accept.
Before Russo could take it he heard three horrible sounds.
Three hisses, followed by a sickeningly wet squelching.
Tyler stumbled forward, reaching a hand to his throat, before he just slumped forward, on top of Russo. The pilot of TTF-89 tried to move the Naval officer off him, but when he didn't budge, Russo knew something was wrong. Pushing Tyler off him, he glanced at the Navy man. The small of his back was all but gone, burnt away by what had to be plasma fire. Tyler was dying, and there was nothing Russo could do.
Russo looked at the wreckage of the dropship as packets of brilliant blue plasma fire shot towards him from one of the open troop bays. Before he hit the ground again though, he realised the shots had gone wide. Then, with startling finality, the corpse of the dropship exploded in a blossom of blue-purple light.
He glanced back at Tyler.
The prone Ensign took one last breath and a plume of smoke escaped his lips. His blue eyes disappeared behind his eyelids, once more and forever.
Russo never noticed Ensign Jeffrey Tyler slip something into his flight suit's pocket.
Ninth Age of Reclamation, Step of Silence/
Covenant Battlecruiser Angelic Sacrifice, above Blue Horizon, Alpha Caridanis IV
First Afternoon of Operation September
The control centre of the cruiser Angelic Sacrifice was an island of calm in an otherwise hectic battle; below the forces of the infidel humans and the brave soldiers of the Covenant Hegemony battled for control of the city that the human filth called Blue Horizon. The cruiser's Sangheili commander Upas 'Senamee stood alone on the central dais, aloof in his buffed golden armour. His keen ears had heard talk all that long and destructive morning about why the fleet had not just glassed Blue Horizon as soon as they arrived. His keen eyes had noted the subtle changes of body language in the observer who had watched all that morning his every move, analysed his every order. 'Senamee was tall and sufficiently powerful enough to take on even a mighty Lekgolo with only his faithful energy sword and plasma rifle. But this creature…
This creature was something else.
In it's own barbaric tongue named Jiralhanae, this thing was known more commonly as a Brute. It was massive, thick-limbed, and powerful. It stood in the control centre's corner, watching the goings on intently, but showing no signs of interest. 'Senamee got the impression that the creature was cataloguing everything in his mind.
Before Angelic Sacrifice had left High Charity with its fleet, the Brute and his cadre of bodyguards had entered, uninvited, into the control centre, bearing the credentials of an observer for the High Prophet of Truth. Though it was highly unusual, 'Senamee had eventually, but begrudgingly, agreed; it was not his place to question the Hierarchs will. Still, he had not allowed the Brutes bodyguards to take up station on his bridge, citing the need for freedom of movement for his crew during a heightened alert, but that didn't change the fact that the great hulking creature was standing there, its disturbingly intelligent eyes glancing from left to right.
Its name was, apparently, Gralik, and it along with the rest of its race, was quickly currying favour with the Prophets. Too quickly.
Though Gralik was unarmed, 'Senamee knew that, if he wanted to, that beast could probably kill half the Covenant in the room, and as such had three SpecOps Elites, posing as his own bodyguards, keeping an eye on him.
A red-armoured Elite, a major, flanked by two orange armoured Grunts, walked up the ramp onto the command dais.
'Senamee turned around to face the newcomer as he bowed graciously.
'Senamee returned the gesture with a flick of his wrist.
In his deep voice the major said, "We have completed the plans for the attack on the human ship, the Shenandoah." The last word was spoken with unprecedented disdain. "They await only your approval."
"Excellent."
'Senamee took a holopad from one of the Grunts, and quickly read the flowing calligraphy. It detailed a plan to use twelve of the U-shaped dropships, twelve Phantoms and forty-eight Banshee fliers to board the human ship and then capture it, if possible finding coordinates to the human homeworld.
'Senamee looked up at the major and nodded appreciatively.
"Perfect."
'Senamee looked away, towards the holographic control surfaces. The plan was very well thought out, and could be easily enacted with the resources at hand. The space battle had been devastating; six Covenant cruisers destroyed by four human vessels. Even though they were heretics, the greatest of blasphemers, the humans were tactically brilliant. It had been devastating for them as well.
The battle was about to get that much hotter.
1246 Hours/ July 27, 2552 (Military Calender)/
UNSC Shenandoah, above Blue Horizon, Alpha Caridanis IV
First Afternoon of Operation September
Captain Julie Theresa Waters, United Nations Space Command Marine Corps, slammed her fist into the bulkhead, and pained arced through her hand and arm as the skin on her knuckles split. She shook the injured hand, and slumped against the wall of one of many arterial corridors throughout the UNSC Shenandoah.
Tears streaked her cheeks.
Seven of her friends were friends were dead, another seriously wounded, then abducted, while a ninth was lying in the infirmary, struggling to stay alive.
The thought of Wallace brought an image of the doctor giving her the young, yet heroic Private's prognosis; serious but expected to live. His body was taking well to the flash-cloned liver, kidneys and stomach, his original organs almost completely destroyed by wounds caused by an zealous Elite.
Despite their losses, her unit had done well, killing two platoons of Covenant soldiers, capturing one of their most powerful ground vehicles, a mighty Scarab. But that didn't quell the feeling deep within her, the feeling that a bottomless pit was about to swallow her and the surviving members of her squad.
Her radio buzzed.
She pressed a button and, wiping her eyes, said "Captain Waters."
A clipped, aristocratic voice thick with a flawless British accent came over the transmission frequency. "Captain Waters, this Commander Frederick Walker, formerly of the UNSC Majestic. Captain King has left me in charge, and I need to see you and the rest of your squad immediately in Briefing Room 3. Walker out."
Before Julie could respond, the communication cut out.
Julie herself had been on Shenandoah during the battle in space, but she knew, during the vessel's rapid descent through the atmosphere, Pelican dropships, loaded with vehicles, UNSC personnel and weapons, Longsword interceptors, loaded with as much fighter-borne ordnance as possible, and Bumblebee lifeboats, packed with evacuating personnel, had gathered around the ship, and made landfall all around its position. Several Bumblebees, however, had gone down outside the city, and small squads had been scrambling all morning to rescue as many survivors and as much ordnance as possible. Obviously, this Commander Walker had been from one of those two groups.
Sighing, Waters stood. She switched her radio to her squad freq. "Waters. All hands report to Briefing Room 3 for new assignment."
In the armoury, assembling their sniper rifles, Chet Li and Lynette Davies double clicked their radios in acknowledgement, while, in the infirmary beside the bed of the doped up Private Wallace, Lieutenant Michael Richardson buzzed his acknowledgement.
Julie looked down the corridor, which was packed with thin metal barricades.
She sighed again, her fresh uniform hugging her beautiful form tightly, but in a way that allowed excellent mobility. She had opted not to wear a helmet this time, instead folding her long blonde hair into a sergeant's cap decorated with the UNSC emblem; a black eagle with its wings spread, standing on a motif of Earth, which sat atop a ribbon that read, aptly, 'UNSC'. Strapped to a holster on her thigh was a fresh MC6 pistol.
She stooped at a door beneath a sign depicting a person carrying a package; a cargo elevator. She hit the control on the panel beside the door.
Seconds later, the door opened onto the small lift car. She stepped inside, placing her hand on the palm reader. "Briefing Room 3," she said calmly, and the fingerprint and voice recognition software hummed for the briefest of moments before the elevator began its ascent to the corridor outside Briefing Room 3.
Eventually it came to a stop.
The door again slid open.
Julie walked through. This corridor was very different from the one she had just been in, Somehow, during the day's events, some sort of explosive had gone off; the corridor was charred black, bulkheads flayed open. The door to briefing room was still intact, however. It even opened as she approached.
Inside, through light streaming in from depolarised windows, she could make out eight forms. Once she had walked inside, however, she could recognise four of them. Lynette Davies stood on the far left, next to Michael Richardson, her second-in-command. Chet Li stood looking out the far windows, towards Blue Horizon's embattled CBD and the Covenant cruiser Angelic Sacrifice above it.
"Ah, Captain Waters, welcome."
Julie recognised this voice as belonging to Walker, even though she had never seen him before. And, frankly, she wouldn't mind seeing him again. He not overly tall, blonde and very, very handsome. However, she didn't let this assessment get in the way of her military response. "Thank-you, Commander."
Of the others in the room, three were Marines, one, wearing a cap similar to Waters', was a woman of decidedly Hispanic extraction, another, this one Indian, wore full battle armour while a third Marine had a pale, Northern European appearance. The last was a Naval Lieutenant in a yellow uniform.
The commander motioned to the Lieutenant. "This is Lieutenant Jonathan Haynes, another survivor from Majestic." Julie nodded at him, and the young man flashed a winning smile back. "These Marines are Sergeant Anna Muniz, Corporal Varishna Singh and Private Travis Harriman. They're the only living members of 3rd Squad, 8th Platoon. They'll be joining you on this mission."
Julie nodded at them, suddenly guilty for feeling sorry for herself. Haynes and Walker had lost most of their friends on the Majestic. Muniz, Singh and Harriman had lost their entire squad. She'd heard about the ambush they had been caught in.
Still, she swallowed this and looked back at Walker. "And, what, may I ask, is this mission?"
Walker looked at Haynes.
The Lieutenant stepped forward, motioning to the table in the centre of the room. "Please, take a seat."
Muniz, Singh and Harriman quickly sat, and Julie nodded for her squad to do the same. Davies, Richardson and Li took seats together and Julie sat between Davies and Singh. Haynes stepped forward and flashed that smile again.
Haynes began his briefing.
"When Captain Woolf ordered the evacuation of Majestic, Commander Walker and I were on the bridge." The Lieutenant started. "The Captain gave me a data crystal containing the Majestic's Artificial Intelligence, Sherlock. With most of the bridge crew, we escaped to one of the life boats, but an explosion cut me off from them. A blast door sealed the entryway and I had to get to another lifeboat. When I did, the crystal fell out of my pocket, and another explosion sent it sliding across the floor. Ensign Jeffery Tyler, one of the Gamma Shift bridge crew and he carried it into his lifeboat, Tango Tango Foxtrot 89. I managed to get off aboard XLS 45. TTF 89 made landfall out in the forest somewhere to the west, along with several other Bumblebees. From the data I picked up in the air there were still, at least, thirty people alive down there."
Commander Walker took a step forward. "Marines, your mission is to make landfall at the Bumblebee's crash site. We believe them to have made hard landings, but we have detected survivors in the area. Every one of those survivors has deactivated their transponders, and there are Covenant in the area."
Haynes said, "I'll be joining you on this one, Captain."
"Your primary objective is to recover Sherlock's data crystal and bring it back to Shenandoah. Your secondary objective is to hold off Covenant attacks until we can evac those men. As per those objectives, you'll be taking along machine gun turrets and a large amount of ammunition." Walker said looking at each of the Marines, then at Haynes. "For this mission, Captain Waters is in overall command, then Lieutenant Haynes, then Lieutenant Richardson, then Sergeant Muniz. You have twenty minutes to suit up and arm yourselves. Dismissed."
Waters stood, saluting at the Commander, glancing at his mission patch. Sure enough, instead of the 'winding river' symbol of the Shenandoah, the mission patch she herself wore, it depicted a crown overlaid with a large 'M'.
Walker returned the salute and the newly formed squad stood and left as one.
Julie stopped beside Haynes. "Lieutenant, you might want to change into combat armour for this one."
"I was just about to go to the armoury and do that, ma'am." He answered. "Walk with me?"
Julie was slightly unnerved by his charm. "Certainly."
"Excellent." Haynes said with absolute sincerity. The two of them reached an open elevator and stepped through the door. Haynes placed his hand on the palm reader. "Main Armoury. Tell me, ma'am, how long have you been on board the Shenandoah?"
Even as he spoke the elevator began to descend.
"Six months, last Friday. Why?"
Haynes smiled wearily. "I was on Majestic for three years. It was my home. They were my friends. I helped upgrade Sherlock about four months ago. I need to help get him back. I need to help some crewmen get to safety. I owe it to them."
"What do you mean?"
Julie's question went without an answer; at that moment the elevator opened into the two-floor armoury, crowded with Marines.
"Ma'am." Haynes said as way of good-bye before disappearing into a changing room. Julie joined Richardson, who had come down another elevator with Li and Davies, at a shelf full of assorted weapons.
"Lieutenant." Julie said by way of greeting.
"Captain." he said back, flashing her a smile.
"What do you all think?" she asked.
Li was first to speak. "Help beleaguered defences, standby for evac, fight off a horde of Covenant…" he trailed off ambiguously before Davies spoke.
"It sounds just like the Plaza of Serenity all over again."
Julie nodded
Richardson glanced uneasily around the armoury. "I don't trust that Navy guy, whats-his-name?" Richardson trailed off, searching for the name. "Haynes."
"Captain?"
Julie turned to see Sergeant Anna Muniz, and thoughts of Felicia came, unbidden to her mind. The Sergeant wore the mission patch of the Crockett, a coonskin cap above the words 'United Nations Space Command', on her shoulder.
"Yes, Sergeant?" Julie asked.
"I just wanted to say that I'm glad to be a part of your squad. Same goes for Singh and Harriman." Muniz said, extending her hand, which Julie promptly shook. "It's just… after my squad was ambushed; I thought my career was done."
"I'm glad to have you aboard, Sergeant. You seem to be skilled. God knows, this mission'll need it."
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